


Searing

by CriticsCubby



Category: The X-Files
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-09
Updated: 2016-02-09
Packaged: 2018-05-19 07:18:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5958550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CriticsCubby/pseuds/CriticsCubby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-10x4 (Home Again), *Spoilers*. His foot was like lead on the gas pedal, mirroring the weight on his heart; he had to get her home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Searing

**Author's Note:**

> My heart hurts. I don’t usually delve into really serious stuff, so apologies if this is completely off the mark, just had to get it out.

He’d been through this before, but somehow that offered no comfort. His foot was like lead on the gas pedal, mirroring the weight on his heart; he had to get her home. Scully was clutching the quarter in her clenched right hand, her left resting in her lap, wiping tears from her face as they fell uninvited. She was silent, she was fighting to keep control and only barely winning. 

Mulder drove on from the beach, gripping the wheel tightly with both hands, the conversation and the concept of her thinking that their son might think they treated him like old newspaper, weighing heavily on his mind. Of course he had thought of what William might imagine his parents to have been like, and that he would wonder what their motivations were for giving him up, but he had always assumed that his son would imagine them to be the heroes of the story, somehow. They’d made the ultimate sacrifice for him, wouldn’t he know that?

The realization that he would have no way of knowing that hit Mulder like a shot to the heart, and it came with the same level of pain. He knew that they had made the right choice, that they had done what was best for all of them, but that didn't mean that William knew. It certainly didn’t make it hurt any less.

They were nearing her exit on the freeway, the silence still unshattered but by the slow slide of the windshield wipers streaking back and forth. Mulder ticked on the blinker, slowing to merge into the exit-only lane when he heard her break from her quiet trance. She swiped another tear that had fallen to her cheek, and looked over at him.

“I want to go home,” her voice strained against the lump in her throat, “ _home_ , Mulder.” She made eye contact with him briefly, making sure he understood, and then resumed watching the slow parade of raindrops down her window.

Mulder blinked back some unwelcome moisture in his eyes, turned off his blinker, and sped toward the new destination. If “Home is Where the Heart Is”, would they really be able to find it right now when their hearts were elsewhere, nowhere? 

\-----

Her body had tensed a bit when Mulder turned onto their street, she was still peering out the window but her tears had slowed for the moment. Pulling into their driveway, Mulder unbuckled before stopping at the gate, ready to jump out into the drizzling rain to open it. Before he could get his hand on the door handle, Scully was out of the car, unclipping the chain. She stood to the side as the mist gathered into proper water-droplets in her hair, waiting for Mulder to pull through. 

Mulder drove quickly through the gate, watching Scully clip it back as he leaned over to open her door from the inside. Instead of sliding into the car, she walked on past, shutting the car door on her way toward the house. He watched for a second as she trudged onward, shoes getting coated in a thin layer of gravel-grime. Quickly realizing that she was almost there, he snapped out of his trance and pulled up to the porch.

“Scully, you got soaked.” He stated, key poised at the lock. She wasn’t looking at him, he wasn’t sure she really heard him. He opened the door, and she ducked under his arm and into the house, their house. He briefly chastised himself for not tidying a bit before he’d left for Philadelphia, but then she started up the stairs and he knew it didn’t matter. 

He followed her, not really knowing what he should say or if he should say anything at all. At the threshold of their bedroom, she turned to face him suddenly, her red-rimmed eyes seeking his own. She looked torn, wet hair clinging to her face. 

“Can I shower?” Her voice was raw, exhausted.

“Of course, Scully.” He reached out, lightly holding her elbow. 

She nodded gratefully and walked into the darkened bedroom, going past the bed and straight into the bathroom. She carefully placed the quarter on the chain she’d been clutching on a shelf, making sure it wasn’t too close to any edges just in case. She didn’t shut the door as she reached with one hand to turn on the water. Taking off her damp coat, she turned to hang it on the towel rack and caught sight of Mulder still standing where she’d left him, watching her. She leaned lightly against the door, the steam from the shower starting to swirl around her, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. 

“I’ll make some tea.” Mulder offered, turning to go before he could get re-glued to the spot. 

\-----

She had taken her time, letting the water attempt to warm her from the outside in. When she finally emerged, she noticed Mulder had somehow silently removed her clothing from the bathroom and had left some in its place. Underwear she’d forgotten she owned, a pair of yoga pants she swore she’d thrown out, and a t-shirt of his from his Oxford days. She towel dried her hair, got dressed, grabbed the quarter from where she’d left it, and ventured down the stairs. 

Mulder was on the couch, a mug of something warm steaming in his hands. He looked up when he heard the stairs creak familiarly. 

“I laid your clothes on top of the washing machine to dry; I couldn’t find a t-shirt of yours, I’m sorry.” He stood, walking toward the kitchen. “Do you want some tea? Or coffee? Water?” He was opening the fridge, looking again to see if he had anything else to offer. 

“The shirt is fine, Mulder, and no thank you.” Her voice was still tired, but it sounded less strained.

He closed the fridge, and walked back over to the couch. He stood awkwardly for a moment, looking at her while she looked around the room. 

“I’m glad you’re here, Scully.” He said sincerely. “I know there’s not much that anybody can say, or do, but I’m here. I will be here.” 

She nodded, swallowing back some new tears as they threatened to spill over. She walked around the couch to join him, not waiting for an invitation before pressing herself against his warm chest. His arms immediately surrounded her, head resting atop hers in their natural way; the two of them were designed for this. She took a shaky breath, arms wrapping around his waist. 

They stood there for a while, him breathing in the scent of her hair freshly washed with his shampoo. When she finally pulled away, he rubbed her back lightly and grabbed her hand gently. She looked down at their hands and slid her fingers to intertwine with his, a familiar feeling of safety and comfort washing over her. 

Mulder sat down on the couch, tugging gently for her to join him. He expected her to sit beside him, but when she sat down she turned so that her back was against his chest, their interlaced hands resting on her stomach. He shifted so that his back was more comfortably supported by the arm of the couch, pulling his legs up to land next to hers longways. 

The whole of this experience was an onslaught of deja vu. The loss of a parent, the grieving child, the only comfort given in eachothers arms. They were both orphans now, belonging to nobody but the other and the one they created together. Laying there, looking at the unfamiliar token left behind by her mother, Scully couldn’t stop thinking about what mysteries she might leave behind for William to wonder about and how she desperately wanted them to be few. 

Maybe it was time to start planning ahead; maybe it was time for them to start solving some for him.


End file.
